Across the shadows of the dunes
The lichens’ corpses parched and stark
Where for a moment still and lifeless
Tremble now as for the dark.
For in the distance faint and low
A murmur rises in the West
Beginning now to slowly grow
As if a dragon from its rest.
Then lo the fast approaching mist
A swirling, swelling cloud of dust
As rocks and stones are cast aside
And those that will not yield are crushed.
With mists that rise as from the mire
And hearts that burn like Deathless Fire
And raging howl, and beating drum
The creatures of the Horde have come!